A Twist to Die For
by QuirkDemon
Summary: Arthur is sick. But it isn't a normal sickness-it's magic. The question is, why?
1. Chapter 1

Coughs racked Arthur's body till it felt he might die. D**m he was thirsty. Much to his bitter annoyance, the water jug was on the table, almost ten feet away from where he lay on his bed. Where was Merlin when he needed him?

_Probably at the tavern again._

Sweat matted hair to his head—it made him feel oddly trapped and uncomfortable.

He stared at the jug, so close, but too far to reach without standing—something he could barely do. Gaius said he would be bedridden for a week by the looks of things. Bronchitis, he had said. Or something like that. A particularly bad case of it.

Now, Arthur wasn't one for self-pitying. A bit of dweller sometimes and selfish, sure but not a self-pitier. However, the only thought he had right then was, why him? Why did he have to be the one who got sick? He already had enough pressure, what with Uther expecting so much of him, being unable to show his feelings for Gwen, and being currently undecided of what he thought about magic—another thing he had to keep from his father.

He coughed again looked at the water jug, sitting there teasingly. He'd tried to get up on several occasions but failed every time he was hit with a wave of dizziness.

_Bet you're so proud of yourself,_ he thought at the jug. _Sitting there where I can't reach you. Why can't you be closer?_

The answer was obvious of course; because Merlin didn't put the jug closer, he put it on the table. And where was he now? Only God knew.

_Stupid Merlin. Stupid water jug. Stupid bronchitis. Stupid table! _

As if mental rants would get the water closer, but Arthur couldn't yell for a servant to come in and bring it to him—his throat was too dry. So what was a sick prince to do other than yell inside his head?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why can't you just __**move**__?_

Much to Arthur's surprise, it did. The metal jug jumped straight up in the air, sending water everywhere and sprinkling the bed covers. The jug however landed with a loud bang on the stone floor, probably getting a nice sized dent in the process.

Arthur sat shocked and stared at the foot of the bed, blocking his view of where the poor water jug landed.

_What, _he thought. _Was that?_


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin was walking down the long corridor carrying a tray of food for Arthur. The prince had been sick for nearly four days already and he was barely eating, but Gaius insisted on Merlin bringing him soup every day.

_Sodium, _he had said. _And something warm will help bring down the fever and keep him strong._

Merlin supposed that made sense and really, bringing Arthur soup wasn't much of a bother, it just seemed slightly pointless when almost the whole bowl went to waste.

"You Highness," he said opening the bedroom door. "Soup de joure."

He was at the foot of the bed when he noticed the mess, and that wasn't until he slipped on it, falling forward and causing the contents of the bowl to spill everywhere, mixing with the water that had already been there—how, Merlin had no idea.

"What happened?" he asked standing and pulling the wet shirt form his chest. "Why is there water everywhere?"

"I don't know." Arthur said. Not a total lie, but that can't be said for what he said next. "When I woke up, the blankets were wet—and no, that wasn't me." He added when Merlin looked at him, clearly about to say something.

"Oh no, of course not." He said quickly moving to clean up the mess and continued muttering in a tone that suggested that he was talking to himself, though he clearly was not. "Why—why would I think that? I mean, you wake up and the sheets are wet…you're sick and can barely stand…why would I think you wet yourself?"

"Merlin."

"What?"

"Shut up."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

**I know, my chapters are really short but I plan on making them longer—don't worry ;)**

**R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur scowled as he pulled the chain mail down over his head. The bronchitis had almost gone but it had also left a toll on the young prince. However, he refused to let it get the best of him. The moment he realized he was strong enough to walk, he was out of bed and in the bath. It felt good to be able to stand and bathe himself. Needless to say, it's very uncomfortable lying in a sweaty bed for a week without bathing.

Not long after Arthur had bathed, he ate with his father who kept insisting that Arthur relax and take it easy—this surprised Arthur, as Uther had always been a bit hard on him. He had a point, Arthur knew, but he was also bored out of his mind and needed something to do. After he finished eating, he went down to the training field to have a mild workout. Merlin lingered nearby to make sure Arthur didn't push himself too hard, never straying more than a few feet.

"Merlin, keep frowning like that and I'll begin to think you're actually worried about me."

"Nah, just don't want to have to be the one who carries you back your room, should you faint."

"Faint? You really think I'm that weak?"

"No, just sick—in more ways than one."

"Oh really?"

Merlin just shrugged.

"Huh…I think I know what I want to do today."

"You do?" Merlin asked in a tone that suggested nervousness.

Arthur smiled mockingly.

…

"Gentlemen, today we're practicing sword combinations."

He grinned at Merlin who was standing nearby quietly, holding a shield.

"Merlin," he continued. "Was kind enough to volunteer as a target. Don't hold back, he can go all day."

He gave Merlin a look daring him to reply but Merlin just grinned sarcastically, if not a bit nervously.

The knights took turns practicing different sword combinations on Merlin—or rather, the shield he gripped desperately for protection. Arthur stood and watched satisfactorily as Merlin tried very hard to withstand the treatment; he knew most of the men were holding back at least a little—they knew why Arthur had chosen this workout and it amused them greatly. No doubt there would be jokes about it later.

It was Arthur's turn. He stood looking at Merlin, stalling to make his friend sweat just a little. He swung his sword in circle and took a stance. Then he began beating the shield that Merlin hid behind with as much force as he could muster.

Merlin stumbled back as he felt the blows Arthur dealt. They were strong, but Merlin was prepared—mostly. It wasn't the blows that worried him; it was how the blows weakened after just a few seconds and how they stopped altogether much sooner than Arthur would usually stop. He lowered the shield and peeked over the top cautiously, just in case Arthur was pulling something on him—but he wasn't.

Arthur was hunched over, leaning on his knees and gasping for air.

"Arthur?"

Merlin dropped the shield and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Fine." He gasped. He straightened back up and took a deep breath. The knights rushed forward in a circle around their prince. Several offered assistance and suggested he rest awhile.

"I'm fine." Arthur tried to tell them but they didn't hear him. "For goodness sake, I'm fine!" he exclaimed and suddenly there was a rush of wind knocking everyone to the ground—everyone except Arthur who only stumbled slightly, as he felt another wave of dizziness.

He turned away, ignoring the silence from the men on the ground and the stares he knew they must have been giving him. Merlin, ever the loyal one was at his side in an instant, not providing assistance but letting Arthur know that he was there should he need any.


	4. Chapter 4

"Magic?" Gaius asked incredulously. "Arthur has magic?"

"Has too." Merlin said crossing his arms and shrugging. "He got angry and in the same moment there was a huge gust of wind and everyone was blown down except for him. Oh, and get this; two days ago, when I was bringing him soup, there was water spilled all over the floor and on his bed and when I asked what happened, he wouldn't tell me—said he didn't know."

"Well perhaps he was telling the truth."

"So what happened today was just a coincidence?"

Gaius sighed.

"And it makes sense." Merlin rushed to finish his thought before Gaius could protest. "He was born because of magic; he's all but made of magic."

"You have a point there." Gaius sighed again. "If you're right and Arthur has magic, he will be very confused."

"Exactly, and I have to help him."

"Merlin, that is very dangerous." Gaius said walking toward the young magician. "To suddenly reveal your magic to Arthur after so long a time…he may feel you've betrayed him."

"I know. But what other choice do I have?"

"Not many, I'm afraid. Just give it a few days. We don't want to jump to conclusions based on a few incidences."

Merlin nodded.

…

_The next day in Arthur's room_

Arthur stretched his sore muscles as he sat up in bed. He'd pushed himself too hard with the workout, he knew that. But sore muscles and a scratchy throat were the last thing on his mind as he dressed.

What had happened yesterday? Could it have been a coincidence the wind kicked up when it did? Arthur wanted to say yes, but a small corner of his mind, a small dark voice insisted that he not rule out the possibility of, dare he think it, magic.

If that was the case, what was he to do? He could go to Gaius…he'd studied magic for years before it was banned. And Gaius would never tell anyone that Arthur had gone to him…except maybe Uther. Gaius told Uther everything.

_So don't tell anyone._ His mind whispered.

Could he really keep such a secret? What if something happened?

_So go to Gaius._

Yes, he would go to Gaius.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur walked down the corridor with a purposeful stride, not even blinking when Merlin came around the corner.

"Arthur." He said. "I've been looking for you."

"You found me—now you can go."

"I need to talk to you." Merlin switched directions and followed Arthur down the corridor stairs.

"Please don't, you do entirely too much of that already."

"It's important."

"Then say it."

"Well, it's difficult—"

"For you, Merlin, everything is."

Merlin frowned, half annoyed, half amused.

"If you'll just listen—"

"I never know when to listen to you; all you do is gab and hope something intelligent comes out."

"…Are you saying I'm intelligent?"

"No, I'm saying you should stop talking just because you like the sound of you own voice."

"…So, where are you going?"

"That's none of your concern."

"I'm always concerned about you—after all, you did wet the bed."

"I did not!"

"You always did drink a lot."

"You talk a lot."

"Don't worry; I don't plan on talking to you again."

"I doubt that."

"Why?"

"I have faith in your ability to always say the wrong thing."

"If I talk too much, just tell me and we can sit down and talk about it."

"If you want my advice, I wouldn't do that—women talk about their problems."

"Nah, I'll just talk to myself if I need an expert's advice."

"You do that, but I won't be there to get you out of the stock. And I'll be cheering anyone on who puts in the gallows."

"But then you won't have a servant to push around and make up lies for when you pee in the bed again."

"That _never happened._"

"Right, I believe you."

Arthur looked at his servant in annoyance at his sarcasm.

"Uh," Merlin said nervously. "I'm just…gonna—go that way." He pointed behind him.

"Yeah." Arthur said continuing on his way to Gaius's quarters.

…

"Arthur." Gaius said upon the prince's entrance. "This is a surprise."

"Hello, Gaius."

"How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Oh yeah, loads. My throat's still dry and I'm a bit tired but other than that I feel fine."

"Good." Gaius nodded.

Arthur nodded as well, his hands on his hips and looked about the room; to the window, the contents of a table, the shelves—anywhere but the man he was speaking to.

"I sense," Gaius said moving closer. "That there is something you wish to say."

Arthur took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Gaius, you've been a friend to the royal family for years. You've treated my mother, my father, me…"

"I'm not sure what you are getting at, sire."

"You're…trusted. You've kept secrets."

"I tell you everything you need to know, Arthur. You know this."

"Yes. I do know that, I just…" another deep breath. "I…I need to…"

"You wish to get something off your chest."

"You can keep a secret. Even from my father?"

"Yes, of course. Though I don't see what the king has to do with any of this."

Deep breath. Slow breath.

"Gaius, I…I think I have magic."

Gaius straightened up.

"I know," Arthur continued hurriedly. "I know it's ridiculous. Impossible even. I just…"

"Calm down, Arthur." Gaius placed a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder and led him to a stool to sit down. "Breathe."

Arthur nodded again and took another deep breath through his nose.

"I know it should be impossible. No one in my family has ever had magic…and now it's banned. Just…just tell me I'm wrong and I'll go."

"I don't know what to tell you, Arthur. There aren't any tests I can perform to test you for magic and I can't just dismiss it without knowing for sure. But I'm glad you told me."

"What do I do?"

"Let's wait and see. If anything else happens, because I assume something as already happened, tell me."

"You can't do anything now?"

"I think it best to wait until we have more proof. And when you are stronger."

"What do I do until then? Can I tell anyone?"

"If anyone, only those you trust."

"Thank you, Gaius. You've been very helpful."

He stood to leave.

"I only wish I could have been of more help." The physician said to himself as the prince left the room alone.

R&R!


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin entered Arthur's chambers, ready for another round of orders. Instead he found Arthur pulling on a boot.

"Going out?" he asked causing Arthur to jump; he hadn't heard Merlin come in.

"Yes." He said. "I mean, no."

"It's really quite simple Arthur. If you're leaving, you're going out, so it's a yes. You're getting your boots on, so I'm guessing…it's a yes."

"Right." Arthur muttered distractedly. He put on a belt and didn't look at Merlin.

"So…shall I prepare a dinner for when you get back?"

"No, I'm going to eat with my father. I haven't eaten with him in almost a week."

"Ah," Merlin nodded understandingly. "I understand."

Arthur looked at his servant confusedly.

"Don't take it so personally, Merlin, you can come with me if you like. You almost always do."

"What? Oh, no, I don't care who you eat with."

Arthur picked up his sword and accidently knocked over the water jug—the same jug that had flown up in the air when he was sick.

"You alright?" Merlin asked as Arthur picked up the now twice-dented metal jug. "You seem…distracted."

Arthur didn't answer; he fiddled with the edge of the water jug before placing it back on the table.

"I don't know what you mean." he said.

"Well, I mean you aren't telling me what to do and you look like you've just stepped in horse dung and haven't got a clue what to do about it."

He looked at Arthur and how nervous he looked. He, Merlin, leaned closer and looked at the other man sincerely.

"You know you can tell me anything. Right? You know you can trust me."

"I know…and…maybe soon, I will tell you…but not right now."

Merlin nodded, slightly hurt but not arguing.

He watched concernedly as Arthur left the room alone.

…

"You seem quiet." Uther said eating his food.

"Anything wrong?"

Arthur cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. His breath hitched and his throat contracted. He was having trouble breathing, his throat was so dry—perhaps he was getting sick again.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you." He said.

"Oh? And what's that?"

Arthur took a deep, quiet breath through his nose.

"I think," he said. "I think I have magic."

Uther laughed.

"Of course you don't have magic." He scoffed. "What on Earth gave you that idea?"

Arthur quickly told him of the things that had happened and then held his breath as his father looked at him and thought.

"I'm disappointed in you Arthur. The evidence is…disturbing."

"You—you can't blame me for having magic; I can't help it." Arthur pleaded helplessly.

"I can and I have."

"So…what do you want me to do then?"

"Well I can't execute my own son; think what the people would say…it'll have to look like an accident or an assassination."

"What?"

"Or I suppose you could do it yourself, show how brave you are. After that, I'll work something out; make it look like something else."

"You…you want me to kill myself."

"Yes."

"…Is this really what you want?"

"Show one last act of bravery; show me I wasn't wrong to have the small amount of pride for you that I did."

"If that is what you wish…I'll do it."

"Good." Uther replied with a smile.

"I can hang myself tonight."

"No, I want to make sure you are not a coward. I have to see it."

"You…you want to see it?"

"You could run away otherwise."

"You think I would do that?"

"I know not what to think; after all, you have magic."

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath through his nose but forced himself to relax. The words stung but what was he to do? Run, be a coward in his father's sight?

He pulled out his sword; oversized for what he had planned but he didn't have his knife with him. He brought his arm up. He lifted the blade. Skin made contact with metal and the smell of blood filled the air as he dragged the sword along the inside of his arm.

"I'm proud of you, Arthur." Uther said as he, Arthur, began to cut his other arm. ""You are not as much of a coward as I thought."

He made no sound as pain spread through his split skin and blood pushed its way out. He would be dead soon. He would see his mother again. He supposed he should have been excited. But he wasn't. Instead he was scared. What if he didn't join his mother in Heaven? What if he was trapped on Earth as a wandering spirit or worse, went to Hell to join his enemies?

His heart pounded, his vision blurred, his father smiled. Nothing made sense anymore.

…

**Keep in mind; everything is not what it seems**

**Also, I'm sorry for the wait; computer problems. All the tear droplets, man, all the tear droplets**


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin walked through the door to him and Gaius's quarters, swinging his arms quicker than usual in a nervous sort of manner.

"Have you seen Arthur?" he asked of the old man.

"This afternoon." Gaius answered. "He told me about the situation."

"Really? What'd you tell him?"

"I said that we didn't know anything for sure yet and that if anything else happens to tell me."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"I am afraid not. Why do you ask?"

"I can't find him." Merlin said lifting his arms and dropping them at his sides again in frustration. "He said he was going to eat dinner with his father but he's not there."

"Really? This is surprising; he hasn't visited Uther in a long time."

"I know. I thought that was why he was going to sit with him. Only now I can't—"

The color drained from the magician's face.

"Oh no." he said quietly.

"What is it?"

"Arthur said…he was going to eat _with_ his father."

"Yes." Gaius said slowly.

"I think I know where he is."

He turned and ran out the door without another word.

Liquid crimson dripped slowly to the floor and Arthur's head drooped to his chest. Yes, the blood flow was slow, but faster than he anticipated.

_Blood, _he realized. _Must be the same color as regret._

His eyes began to close on their own as his mind fogged, but not before he saw the look of pure glee on his father's face. _He_ clearly had no regret.

Somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, Arthur realized something wasn't right. It was off, crooked, blurred.

Distantly he heard noises. Someone was yelling; several some ones. He wanted to lift his head to see what was wrong but his tired mind was too foggy to care.

"Arthur." A voice said urgently. _"Arthur."_

Someone shook him.

"Wake up. Open your eyes."

He struggled to do as he was told and lifted his eye lids a crack.

"Merlin." He slurred seeing the face hovering in front of him.

"Arthur." Merlin sighed in relief as he tied pulled off his neckerchief to around Arthur's left arm as a tourniquet. "Thank God you're awake."

"Merlin…Merlin, stop."

"What? Why?"

"I…I have to die." Arthur's words were still very slurred and quiet and it scared Merlin. What if he was too late?

"Arthur," he said picking up a cloth napkin and moving to other arm. "Why did you try to kill yourself? Why do you need to die?"

"M' father told me."

Merlin froze in his work and closed his, giving a sad sigh.

"Your father?" he said softly.

"Mmh."

He glanced at the empty chair to his right and folded his lips in a sad frown.

"Arthur…" he said in soft, sad voice. "Arthur, the king…your father is dead."

...

**I am soooooooooo sorry for the long wait but I'm so busy with track and homework and making YouTube videos with friends and stuff like that. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I know, you're probably more confused than last time. Sorry! I'm hoping the next chapter will be up quicker so you don't have to wait TOO long.**

**R&R!**


	8. Chapter 8

…

_"You hold the answers deep within your own mind.  
Consciously, you've forgotten it.  
That's the way the human mind works.  
Whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us  
to entertain, we reject it.  
We erase it from our memories.  
But the imprint is always there."_

…

Everything was gone. Everything…it just didn't exist. How can anything exist if you can't feel it? How can it comfort you, hurt you, touch you if it doesn't exist? And it won't exist as long as you don't care—not caring equaled not getting hurt…right?

So, if you won't—can't feel, are you supposed to hear? Isn't "numb" the equality of nothingness? Sound is definitely something, so Arthur shouldn't have heard the voices, the whispering voices inside his head…right?

Maybe he wasn't numb and gone.

No, that thought was horrifying. Feeling meant facing…facing…_something._ What was it that he was afraid to stand up to? He was guilty of something…ashamed of it too. What was it? What was it his heart wanted to remember so badly, yet his mind rebelled against it?

_"We're supposed to try and be real.  
And I feel alone, and we're not together. And that is real."_

He wished his father was there. But no, he had died two weeks previous.

Wait—

Oh God, his father was dead. But Arthur remembered…he remembered speaking to him just a few minutes ago.

No, it must have been at least a day ago by now.

But that didn't make any sense. Arthur distinctly remembered dining with Uther; it was the last thing he recalled, so it must've been the last thing he had done that night, so his father must have been alive…right?

_No,_ a voice, his own mind whispered. _You know that's not true. Your father is dead and you know it._

**"_Arthur," a memory came to the front of Arthur's mind. "Arthur, the king…your father is dead."_**

And that…that was the God's honest truth. It was what was real. He was alone…and when he woke up, he would remember it—he would be real. Does being real include feeling? No—of that, Arthur was sure. Who needs feelings to live?

Right?

_Can't fight it all away  
Can't hope it all away  
Can't scream it all away  
It just won't fade away, No_


	9. Chapter 9

Gwen sat at Arthur's bed, gently wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. The serving girl, Sefa, had objected at first. After all, it's not the Queen's job to look after the sick, but Gwen had insisted, kindly, of course, and Sefa left it at that. It may not be the Queen's job to personally help the sick but it wasn't a servant's place to tell her Queen what to do.

Gwen sighed as Arthur scowled and shifted, instinctively turning toward her comforting hand. He mumbled in his sleep at the debate going on inside his head—his entire body. She knew what was happening; he wasn't prepared to deal with something as big as this. The King had magic? The very thing he and his father had been fighting for years? Not to mention the thing that _killed_ his father_ and_ his mother in the first place. How could he have it, the thing that had taken his family from him? His mind couldn't handle it, not yet, and therefore, neither could his body. It was making him sick. This was the cover story in Arthur's sudden disappearance in the kingdom matters. Gaius explained that anyone who gets bronchitis gets sick twice as easily as anyone else. Even the common cold could leave them bed ridden for weeks.

Yes, the King was merely sick again and he would be up and on his feet soon.

He shifted again and this time, he opened his eyes.

"Arthur." Gwen sighed in relief.

"Guinevere." He whispered closing his blue eyes and rolling his face toward the ceiling, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

Arthur sighed and stopped moving, eyes still closed and wished he could sink through the bed and into the floor.

Who knows, maybe he could. He _did_ have magic after all.

"What has Gaius told you?"

"Everything."

He sighed again, dreading the moment.

"But, Arthur, it doesn't matter." Gwen added quickly, letting him know she wouldn't pass judgment on such a thing.

"'_It doesn't matter'? _How could it _not matter?_ How can I—"

"I only meant no one will hate you because of it. Of course it could matter in the _grand scheme_ of things, but not in the eyes of those who already love you."

Arthur looked in his wife's beautiful brown eyes and saw nothing but sincerity and love.

"I love you." She said. "Magic or not, you're mine. And I'm yours."

She kissed him then. A deep, gentle kiss on the lips and he kissed her back.

"I love you, too." He said. And Guinevere smiled for the first time since her King got sick and when he fell asleep again, it was peaceful and relaxed.

But as Gwen got up and left to let him rest, she knew it wasn't over. Arthur would still have trouble adjusting and things wouldn't always end well. The only question was, how prepared were they to deal with the upcoming, inevitable troubles?

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**hey, guys! it's been a REALLY long time, I know, I know and i'm SO sorry for the wait. I was in _Grease_ and there was homework and i'm making a Youtube series with my friends:) well, it's also gonna be a web comic. i'll let you know if you're interested. anyway, here it is! **

**plz review:D**


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